


A Minotaur's Misery

by BoringMacaroni



Category: Original Work
Genre: Eproctophilia, F/M, Fantasy, Fart Fetish, Farting, Gassy Guy, Male Farting, Minotaur - Freeform, Scat, farting fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoringMacaroni/pseuds/BoringMacaroni
Summary: Things get a little messy during Gabriel's routine vet check-up.





	A Minotaur's Misery

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent minotaur!AU for my favourite gassy guy OC.

Fact: most six year olds ask for a puppy for Christmas.

Double fact: most six year olds would not be thrilled if, on Christmas morning, their mother and father, the richest rulers in all the land, left them only one present under the tree—a present that was distinctly non-canine.

On December 25th of her sixth year, Princess Tatiana received not a dog, but a cow calf with a red bow tied around his neck. Most six year olds would quickly work out the problem with this. Cows could not play fetch, which instantly destroyed any hopes of having a fun-loving companion. There was not many hopes left for just the companion part either. Cows were not known for their fondness of hide and seek. Cows also do not care to dress up and pretend to be anything but a cow. Cow calves, generally speaking, are not the most desired friend for a young girl.

So it helped tremendously that Tatiana had not been like other six year olds, and it helped even more so that he was only _half_ cow, and that he could speak and play games and, if bribed with enough carrots and head scratches, could endure dress-up for an hour or two, so long as he got to be the pirate.

The Princess had taken after her father in many ways. They both had deep olive eyes, and they both had a pleasant laugh. They also enjoyed a little bit of hard labour, which was fortunate considering their circumstances. Their world was governed by agriculture and all the Kings and Queens took pride in not only owning land (and plenty of it), but running their own farm, mostly for show purposes. Centaurs, minotaurs and fawns were the Big Three at galas and kingdom-wide competitions. The King had them in spades, but it would foolish to suggest that he did not have his favourites.

He had bought his first ever Brandisian bovine from an Italian cattle breeder and had treated her almost as well as he took care of his wife. She was the most beautiful minotaur woman he had ever laid eyes on, and his father before him had bred a five-time-winning Blue Braise Bulgarian. Her milk was the sweetest anyone in his kingdom had ever tasted—and went for a hefty price, which meant she had already paid for herself within one year. The King had no qualms in paying the large sum for breeding her with an acclaimed stud, and was delighted when, around the same time his wife gave birth to his heir, the vet had announced that his prize-winning cow was pregnant with a bull. For he knew that if there was anyone who, when the time came for them to be introduced, would appreciate a gift like this, it would be his daughter, who had already shown plenty of interest in their farm and the various species' that inhabited it.

Like his mother, Gabriel was a stunning example of his breed. He had been a downright adorable calf, and now at the age of 22, he had grown into an exceptional adult. At just under six feet tall and one-hundred-and-ninety-pounds he was certainly not the largest male minotaur on their farm, but he was by far the most visually spectacular. His deep blue eyes with their long lashes, and his rich, golden-blonde hair. Brandisians did not have much in the way of horns, and you could barely see his over his thick locks, which gave him the appearance of looking perpetually youthful and angelic. The fur on his lower half was downy and speckled with brown, white and warm caramel tones. He was immediately chosen as the King's primary stud, and had already fathered over a dozen young taurs, all for a hefty price (the King, as one might have guessed, enjoyed hefty prices, almost as much as he enjoyed hefty taurs.)

They were both a fine addition to the royal family.

On this particular morning, the King's beloved bull was resting against a wooden fence in the farm's grooming area, lullabied to sleep by the repeated noises of hair being brushed. His hair, to be precise, the kind that covered him from the waist-down.

Zephyr the gnome had been taking care of Gabe since he was a calf. Someone who regularly washes your buttocks is bound to become a close confidant over time. The gnome's wrist twisted as he carefully drew a thin comb through the fur that covered Gabe's toned rump.

"Watch it," the minotaur's eyes flicked open, a droopy ear twitching in mild annoyance. "You're tuggin', Z."

"I am not. I shampooed and conditioned your fat arse three times. There's no mats." Zephyr shuffled his stool around so he could work on the other side. "Perhaps if you went easier on the carrots, there wouldn't be as much mess to clean."

"Carrots are essential for healthy digestion. I pride myself on that."

"Oh, for sure. Nobody's digestion is smoother than yours," the gnome jested. Gabriel grumbled and went back to sleep.

Zephyr was working on brushing out the tuft on Gabriel's tail when a familiar face entered the farmyard. Her long, dark hair was tussled by the wind as she approached the stablehand.

The gnome gave Gabe's ass a slap. "Look lively."

Gabriel yawned widely. "Humm…"

The young woman beamed as she stopped in front of the fence. "Good morning, Zephyr!"

"Princess Tatiana," the gnome bowed his head.

Tatiana smiled as her eyes met the bull's. "Good morning, Gabe," she greeted, and reached out a hand to scratch the space between his horns, just the way he liked it. Gabriel's eyes softened and his ears perked up. His tail swayed pleasantly from side-to-side.

"Mornin'. You're looking nice today."

Tatiana gestured to her riding outfit and snorted. "This? Oh, they're nothing more than a few old rags tossed together. I'm going to help Dego with the centaurs. There's a new arrival I want to break in, and it's always wise to consider the possibility that you might get thrown into the muck at some point."

Zephyr chuckled as Gabriel took the opportunity to admire Tatiana's hour-glass frame. All of the royal family had to look palatial—they literally had a team of people to make sure of that—but the Princess had a natural beauty, one not even the most expert of servants could conjure up every morning.

She sighed contentedly and lay down the saddle she had carried over with her, centaur reins spilling out of her pocket.

"So, Father told me you're getting a check-up from Dr. O'Hara today. You ready?"

"He never is," the gnome glanced at the bull.

"I still don't understand why it's so important," Gabe grumped.

"He's taking you to King Asmo's Annual Bovine Gala on Friday. He's been looking forward to this all year." Tatiana found herself unable to resist scratching behind the taur's ears. He was so _soft._ "He wants to make sure you're fit and healthy. You're his favourite, you know."

"I feel fine," Gabriel said with a smile, enjoying the affection.

"Yes, but we have to make sure everything's good in here, too," Tatiana said, poking his pillowy stomach. Gabriel lowered his head and nodded weakly.

"Try not to be too nervous. I'm sure everything will be okay."

"You try tellin' yourself that when you're getting something shoved up your ass," he muttered acidly.

Zephyr sighed. "Ignore him, Princess. I'm afraid this big lug woke up on the wrong side of the haybed today."

Gabriel whipped his tail in the gnome's face.

Tatiana laughed sweetly. "Oh! Here. I brought you something that might help." She took out the reins and dug deep into her pocket. Gabriel's eyes widened at the revealed surprise: a large bar of chocolate.

"Oh, _now_ we're talkin'!"

The princess grinned. "Beats carrots, huh?"

"By a long shot." Gabe was eager to take the chocolate off her hands. Zephyr looked up, frowning dubiously.

"Err, Princess, are you sure this is a good idea? You know he's not supposed to have that."

"You stay outta this, Gnomeo," Gabe grunted, ripping open the snack.

"Remember that time he got into the pantry?" the gnome suggested nervously. After all, he had been the one made to clean the bull afterwards.

Tatiana shrugged. "We got the stain out of the carpet eventually. I thought it might cheer him up."

Someone called Tatiana's name from the centaur barn.

"Oh, that must be Dego. I'll see you boys later." She turned, stopping to smile at the minotaur one final time. "Bye, Gabe. Good luck!"

"Have fun riding the donkeys," Gabe smirked, but his tone was sincere. Tatiana rolled her eyes and waved as she took off. Gabriel bit into the chocolate and watched her, tail curling thoughtfully as the gnome rifled through his tools. He noticed Gabriel's look of longing.

"I have a feeling that's not the sweet treat you're craving."

"What—Tatiana?" Gabe feigned scepticism as he glanced between the gnome and the princess. "Get real. I'm her pet."

"Oh, shut up," Zephyr protested. "We all know what goes on when she brings a sleeping bag down here. And when you get invited inside the royal house." He exhaled. "Which I still refuse to believe. _I_ can't even get into the royal house, and yet here's a two hundred pound manure machine waltzing through the halls."

"You're just jealous," Gabe said slowly through a mouthful of chocolate. Dairy was a rarity for him, and he wanted to savour the taste.

"Pet or not, you're certainly treated well. Guess it helps when the King's daughter is so fond of you," he smiled, then scowled when Gabe's attempt to savour the chocolate was abandoned in favour of stuffing it in all at once.

"For God's sake, go easy on that! You know what it does to you."

Gabriel swallowed and belched so explosively that a nearby crowd of chickens panicked and tried to fly away.

"Excited for the gala, then?"

"Eh," the bull shrugged and picked his teeth. "It's a whole day of getting my dick felt by a bunch of spoiled royals. Then a feast. And then maybe I'll be made to bang some poor heifer."

"Oh, free food and sex. Woe is you."

"It's not sex," Gabriel rebutted. "It's insemi-insemu... uhh..."

"Insemination."

"That's the one. Sex has passion. And feeling..." He trailed off. "Being a stud is just like any other job. At the end of the day, it's work."

"Yeah, well, it beats cleaning the shit off your hooves."

At which point the gnome took out his old, rusted scraper and grabbed Gabriel's right hoof, coaxing the bull into helping him out. Gabriel raised his leg and hitched his tail into the air.

_BbbbblrrrppppPPPBRRT!_

Zephyr, in return for his services, received a meaty fart to the face.

At least centaur flatulence didn't smell. Hell, even the other minotaurs had fairly fragrant farts. Gabriel's gas was so thick and so fetid that it actually came out as more of a fog than steam. It was the reason why none of the other stablehands ever agreed to clean him and why Zephyr rarely got a day off. They weren't brave enough. Plus, they quite enjoyed keeping their meals locked away in their stomachs. They only got three a day.

"Ugh!" The gnome cried out as though he had just been smacked upside the head. He elbowed the bull's plush hind, which only encouraged a selection of raunchy rippers to slide out.

"Oh, watch where you point that thing!"

Gabriel laughed and wagged his fluffy tail. They both knew that the gnome was well trained and would not scurry away like the others would, which made it even funnier to the taur. His caretaker had gotten used to being the recipient of Gabe's chronic gas-passing right around the prepubescent mark. Zephyr blinked his watering eyes and carried on with his task.

"Minotaurs," he tutted, shaking his head. He wasn't sure what the King saw in them.

* * *

Gabriel stretched his tight muscles as he crossed the bustling farmyard.

The King had probably told him about the gala months ago, and his mother probably wrote it on the calendar. But, rather inevitably, Gabe had forgotten. Not to worry, he supposed. There wasn't a whole lot of prep involved anyway.

He didn't mind attending these things, although the travelling could be a bore. It was one of his several duties to the royal family and it didn't exhaust him too badly. All he had to do was stand there, flex his biceps and let complete and utter strangers touch his private parts to determine whether or not he was suitable for mating with their ridiculously expensive cows. The entire event was an utmost show of snobbery from start to finish with people with too much money and too little responsibilities, but Gabe was more than aware of the fact that he was just a taur. And he knew that at the end of the day, being a staple at the annual gala was certainly better than being a staple on the royal's menu.

The music could be nice. The food was usually good. Sometimes he'd meet a nice heifer from some distant kingdom and they'd swap stories. But as Zephyr knew, there was no heifer in the land who could entice Gabe the way a certain young princess could.

He shook his head, blonde locks falling in front of his eyes. There was no use in pining over something unattainable. No matter how much affection Tatiana showed him, there was no way their relationship could progress beyond what it already was. Princesses didn't fall in love with minotaurs. And certainly not minotaurs like _him._

He stopped to admire the newborn harpy chicks, out on their first lap around the barnyard. So delicate and naive. Much could be said about the two hundred pound bull, because he decided to squat while doing so. Really, he should have known himself better by now.

_Thhhhrrrrrrbbbrrrt!_

A thrumming trumpet tore out of his behind, flapping his loincloth into the air and scaring off all poultry in sight. A few of the working steers grazing at the troughs behind him quickly lost their appetite and decided to cut their snacking short, although not without chucking a few insults at the flatulent bull, who was trying his best to keep his head down.

"There blows Gaseous Gabe!" One bellowed, making the others howl with laughter.

"Eat my cloth," Gabe stuck up his middle finger without turning around.

Bunch of jerks. The minotaur huffed as he felt a surge of abdominal pain cruise through his bowels, a hand coming to rest on a stomach that seemed to be bulging more by the minute. He was starting to bloat, which he knew was the repercussions of having eaten so much dairy at once, but his stomachs never usually reacted this quickly. He had at least ten minutes before he became lethal.

And lethal he was—although his looks were admired by most of the barnyard (minus the other male taurs, who often poked fun at him for his lack of horns before he aimed his derriere their way), Gabriel was not socially thriving. Aside from Tatiana and Zephyr, he spent most of his time alone. It didn't take a genius to work out why.

_PPppppPPPRRRRppprrrrrrrrt!_

"Oy…" Gabriel groaned as he stood up again, clutching his churning middle. His nauseating flatulence swiftly spread out and pretty soon he heard the coughs of the staff stationed all around.

He sighed as he fanned his big behind. So long as he was the King's favourite, his reputation couldn't be dented too badly, but it would still be nice to be known for something other than his boisterous bowels. He took a step forward, but immediately felt pressure at his backside and quickly held his tail in the air to let more bubbling gas splutter out.

 _What's going on with me?_ He thought to himself. Hopefully this was only nerves.

* * *

The bull pushed open the door to the chalet he and his mother shared and noticed the large bovine sitting at their dining table, one leg crossed over the other. The cow chewed on some cud, her tail swishing idly as she worked on knitting some sort of invention. She called them scarves. Gabriel thought they looked more like washrags, but he never told her that.

"You're back early," he murmured, taking an empty glass over to their water trough. His mother looked up from her crafting.

"We took a break. One of the milkers sprained his wrist."

Gabriel nearly spat out his drink.

"It's not funny! Poor sod," the cow shook her head, the bell around her neck softly chiming. "I don't think they expected us all to go into lactation at the same time. But these things sync among minotaurs, you know. Once of us goes we're all going."

His mother was... _as eloquently as it could be put._..obviously carrying milk. Minotaur women were usually topless, as their breasts shrunk when they were out of lactation. During lactation, they were considerably larger, red, tender nipples protruding forward like spikes. It looked more painful than comical to Gabe.

"Are they sore?" The bull asked.

"A little," she shifted uncomfortably. "But it's nowhere near as bad as it was when I had you. Lactating during pregnancy is a nightmare. Gosh, this feels like calf's play compared to that." She glanced at him. "When's your appointment with the vet?"

"Ten minutes."

"Well, you better get going," his mother nodded at the clock.

"It's cool, ma. I've got time."

Wooden needles clinked together. "I saw Tatiana today. She was asking for you." The cow smiled to herself, and Gabe hoped the conversation wouldn't turn to the direction he had feeling they were quickly headed. "You two have always been close, haven't you?"

_Rrrrggggllllrrrrgggguuurrg..._

Thankfully, his belly rumbled before she could continue. Gabriel let out a quiet moo as he rubbed his swollen, tightening middle. His abdomen was starting to clench.

His mother scrunched her nose at him.

"Something the matter?"

"Just an upset stomach," he replied. He peered reluctantly at his bloated gut and frowned. "One of them's upset, at least."

"Have you been eating oats again?"

"Nah. I think it's nerves, ma. You know how I get before a big show."

His mother waved one of her needles dismissively. "They'll love you. They always love you. After all," she boasted, "You come from such a fine bloodline."

"You would say that," Gabe teased.

"So, about Tatiana..."

"What about her?"

His mother blinked at his tone. "Nothing. I'm only curious."

Gabriel huffed and flicked an ear.

"I see the way you two look at each other..."

"Ma!"

"What?"

"I'm a minotaur. She's not. Simple math, I'd say."

"The only thing I'll say," his mother began, "Is that it wouldn't be the first time it's happened."

Gabriel sighed and sat back in his chair. His mother's brows furrowed together, then she leaned to the side, grunted, and pushed out a gigantic fart. Her loincloth billowed out behind her.

"Ooh, do excuse me," she apologised, hastily pinching the garmant back down again.

"Woah!" Gabriel laughed loudly. That sounded like one of his. "Have _you_ been eating oats? Damn, mom."

" _Don't._ I can't help it when I'm like this."

"And everybody says I'm bad."

"Well, you do take after me," she admitted with a shrug. Her cheeks reddened as a few wet parps slipped out. "Oh my..."

"Our fine bloodline," Gabriel smiled and took a sip from the glass.

* * *

Dr. O'Hara was a minotaur specialist, which was precisely why the King paid her triple her standard fee for her to make the two hour journey to the kingdom once every few months. She was a stout, cheery leprechaun who took great pride in her craft, despite being only three feet high and dictating instructions more than she did anything practical herself. Her assistant, Clara, was an elf from the Irish territory, and she handled the bulk of the physical work.

Gabriel's hooves clopped across the dusty ground as he made way to the barn, which had been turned into an impromptu vet's office.

"There he is," Dr. O'Hara said cheerily, looking up from her diary. "The King's pride and joy! Well, one of them anyway."

She smiled warmly at the blonde bull.

"How are you feeling, big guy?"

Gabriel shrugged and snorted air out through his nose, tickling the gold ring between his nostrils. He removed his loincloth and hung it up on a nail.

"Clara," Dr. O'Hara gave the assistant her cue to perform a thorough inspection.

Clara put on a pair of rubber gloves. "Ready?"

The bull nodded.

Clara started by checking his face—she stared into his eyes, having him follow her finger, then checked his ears and horns for any abnormalities or discolouring. She had him open his mouth, in which she pressed and poked at his gums and tongue. She checked his heart-beat. Then it was onto his neck and chest and torso, trailing her fingertips across his defined, albeit bloated abdomen, arms and tail. She unsheathed his penis and fondled his balls slightly. Gabriel was so used to these sort of inspections that he could barely stay awake.

Dr. O'Hara had him turn around, at which point Gabriel realised the most daunting part of this appointment was upon him and nerves got the better of his notorious digestive system. He accidentally unloaded with a particularly foul SBD, making the assistant jump back from the onslaught of dung-scented air.

"Sorry," he cast them a sympathetic look.

Dr. O'Hara whistled. "Wee bitt'a warning wouldn't go amiss."

The vet bit back her gag reflex. It was simply _not_ professional to throw up on a patient, no matter how terrible his farts smelled. They might be used to this kind of thing, especially with taurs, but Gabriel's gaseous tendencies were something else entirely. Dr. O'Hara actually had to stop a check-up after he had knocked out her old assistant. Gabriel had been strictly prohibited from eating sweet potatoes before any future medical inspections.

Clara fanned the bull's sulphurous-smelling rear before any flies could congregate and got down on her haunches, ready for the next step.

"His eyes are clear, an' his gums are pink and healthy. Ears don't smell either," Clara told her boss. "Although, his tummy's rather distended."

"Everything alright, Gabriel?" The vet asked.

Gabriel's stomachs were starting to bubble and roil. "Yeah, I just- **ooOOUUURRRP!** "

The minotaur released a rowdy belch. His multiple stomachs gurgled all at once, and he moaned, ears drooping.

"He had chocolate not too long ago."

Zephyr was standing in the barn's doorway with his arms crossed and a calculated countenance. 

"Snitch," Gabriel said under his breath.

The vet tutted disapprovingly. "Now Gabriel, we've discussed this," she lightly scolded.

"I know, I know."

"Unfortunately, as the farm's only lactose intolerant taur, you can't afford to do that. Especially as a show bull. Gotta keep your system running smoothly, right?"

Gabriel's tummies rumbled and he squirmed slightly.

"Princess Tatiana gave it to me," he said, biting into his lip as he felt pressure begin to rapidly build. "Couldn't exactly turn it down."

"I suppose not," Dr. O'Hara said agreeably. "Well now, the only thing left to do is take your temperature! Clara? Do you have the jelly?"

Clara was already lubing up the thermometer. Gabriel let out a fretful little moo, and he looked to Zephyr, who gave him a comforting smile.

"Ready, Gabriel?"

"Ready as I'll ever- _BE!_ " He yelped as Clara promptly slipped the glass tube between his furry cheeks. There was a dreadfully uncomfortable feeling as it entered him, then things felt as normal as they could when one had a large object stuck up their rectum.

"Perfect!" Dr O'Hara beamed. "Just give it a wee minute there, Gabe. It'll be out in a jiffy."

Gabriel nodded stiffly, gritting his teeth together. Focusing on the pain in his ass was an escape from worrying about whatever was happening in his stomachs. He had a feeling he'd be taking a newspaper and visiting an empty field after this appointment.

"How's your mam doing?" The doctor asked. "Last time I heard she was about to start lactating."

 _Why is it,_ Gabe thought, _that vets feel it is acceptable to talk as though he wasn't standing there with something jammed up his asshole?_

"Fine," was all he managed. Zephyr snorted, at which Gabriel shot him a heated look.

_Ggggguuurrrgggg…_

Gabriel sucked in a wince, hooves shifting nervously on the spot. His stomachs were definitely not enjoying the chocolate. The bull's thick tail twitched as his intestines started to grumble.

"Ah, there's our Princess," the vet announced, drawing everyone's attention toward the royal house. If he could manage it without tearing his asshole open even further, Gabriel would've ran to hide in the corner. He did not want Tatiana to see him like this.

"She was out riding some of our centaurs this morning," Zephyr said, keeping an eye on the bloated bull. He knew Gabriel well, and something wasn't right with him. "She'll be back for lunch now."

"Perfect day for riding," Clara said, looking out at the cloudless blue sky.

Pockets of gas rampantly flooded Gabe's bowels and he whined, tail shaking nervously. Dr. O'Hara gave him a little pat on his arm.

"Almost there," the vet said, as if it'd be of any comfort. Almost there was fine, but it wasn't as good as _you're finished! Let's take this out of your anus._

**_GGGGUUURRRRRGGG!_ **

A tremendous rumble made the whole room flinch as Gabe promptly crossed his furry legs. Zephyr's eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder, snapping his fingers at an elf boy of around fourteen.

"Henri," he whispered once the boy was close enough, "go grab a bucket."

"What kind of bucket?"

Gabriel's stomach let out a fearsome wail and the bull grabbed his tail. He held it an awkward angle as his body trembled and his face darkened in silent agony.

 _"A big one,"_ the gnome urged.

The vet watched the anxious taur curiously. "You okay, Gabe?"

"F-Fu-Fine," Gabriel said between gritted teeth. He shivered as a huge amount of pressure built up rapidly at his anus. He could feel something starting to give down there. The thermometer was going to sli-

Mercifully, Dr. O'Hara's watch beeped.

"Alrighty, Clara," she smiled. "I think that's been long enough."

Gabriel let out a worrisome moo and held his gurgling stomach. He couldn't be crossing his legs any tighter at this point. Zephyr grabbed the newly arrived bucket and tensed as he noticed Clara getting dangerously close to Gabriel's large behind.

"Uh, C-Clara, I wouldn't stand so clo-"

Clara grabbed the visible end of the thermometer and yanked it out. The minotaur erupted all over her.

The assistant screamed as explosive flatulence burst out of the bull's anus, giving way to strident gusts that didn't stop. Gabriel moaned out of relief, falling against the barn wall, ears pressing against his head as he hiked a leg up. He held his quivering tail in one hand. Foul yellow vapors poured out of his behind and sent stray hay behind him twirling in a tornado.

The noise cascaded across the entire barnyard. The centaurs, having started to settle down after their morning session, looked up in surprise at the noise that shook their barn walls. The fawns and their groomers tuned in hesitantly as nothing else could be heard over it, frozen with shock. The cows being milked the next barn over glanced at one another in brief confusion.

Gabriel's mother sighed at her milker. "I told him not to eat those bloody oats."

Several maids inside of the royal house opened their windows to find the source of the noise...then promptly shut them again. But there was no doubt about who was the guilty party.

 _"Moo,"_ was all Gabriel could say, because there was nothing human about this. This lack of control was strictly animal. He grunted, pushing out more big, violent blasts, then whimpered as the pain in his stomach abruptly changed. Things were feeling... _gooey_ down there. His farts became squisher as they splattered out of him, the oily gas slapping his cheeks. He blushed and fanned desperately at his rear as he let out several waves of horrible SBDs, then quickly drew his hand away, eyes widening.

The bull grunted dismally as he farted and squirted out loose stool. Zephyr, who had been locked in the same impressed trance as everybody else, nearly pushed Henri over as he forced him into action.

"Quick, quick!"

Poor Henri. He had only been working at the farm for a few weeks and still found himself getting lost on the vast grounds, and yet here he was, crouching under the looming rear-end of an infamously flatulent minotaur, holding the bucket out in front of him like a shield. Gabriel desperately voided his bowels into it and sighed with relief. The soft, liquid turds splashed against the old wood and quickly filled the bottom of the bucket.

The taur squatted and gripped the bucket with one hand, defecating urgently. The stools became more formed and piled on top of one another. Henri tried to hold his nose, but that would involve letting one hand go on the bucket, and he did _not_ want to take that risk.

"I knew you were going to do that," Zephyr chastised the bull, but it didn't stop him from patting Gabriel on the back. "There you go, you big idiot. Get it all out. That's it..."

Dr. O'Hara blinked. At this point, Clara had finally stopped screaming.

"Well," the vet spoke up quietly. "I'm sure he'll feel plenty better after this."

"Sorry, doc," Gabriel apologised meekly, rubbing his rumbling middle as he shat into the bucket. It was already more than halfway full. His stomachs gurgled and a gusty fart blasted his tail into the air, hitting Henri in the face. Zephyr waved a hand near Gabe's fat ass.

"Want some manure for the road?" he asked the ladies. Dr. O'Hara snorted as Clara hastily put their kit back together. The sooner they got out of here, the better.

"We'll pass. Tell the King that everything's fine. He's good to go for the show."

"Will do," Zephyr yelled over the sound of Gabriel experiencing another flatulence-attack, letting loose with a ripper that didn't seem to want to stop. "By the gods, dairy really doesn't like you, does it? Guess this means another wash."

Gabriel's gut jiggled and churned, and the minotaur exhaled with a noticeable hint of sadness.

"It's okay," Zephyr comforted him. He reached a hand up to stroke behind the taur's ears. Gabriel squirmed at first, then settled, letting out more wet farts with lumpy turds falling out at the intervals.

"Happens to the best of us. Right, Henri?"

 _"Rrrih,"_ Henri managed through a tightly closed mouth. He was right under the bull's arse. He did not want to breathe anything in.

Gabriel relaxed under the stroking and wriggled his rump a little, shaking some of the faeces from his fur. Unfortunately, Henri took this as a cue that he was finished. He had a lot to learn, and promptly received a squelching fart to the face. Seeing that the warm gas had just emitted from a dung-caked asshole, the elf did not take it so well.

"I'll pay you overtime," Zephyr consoled his retching assistant. That might just cover his therapy fees.

* * *

Tatiana shut her window once Gabriel had been led away to the washing station for a second time that day and reckoned she'd have to clean herself up now.

It had been an awful thing to do, really. The poor minotaur had humiliated himself in front of two respectable people, although she knew he'd get over it. Since his calfhood he had embarrassed himself in front of practically everyone on the farm. Tatiana could recall countless accidents, most of which she had been there for. There was that time, at age twelve, when Tatiana fed him too many carrots (in her defence, it was hard to say no to such a cute face!) and he had stunk up the fawn's barn. Or at age fifteen, when he got caught short and laid a cow-pie in front of the other young bulls, after Tatiana had convinced him that he could hold it in. And of course there was the pantry incident. She had conveniently left the door unlocked that morning.

She knew Gabe was a little slow, but she couldn't believe he had went _this_ long without realising the rather patent pattern here.

She didn't do it to humiliate him. Oh no, it was not to make him feel bad about himself and his unfortunate tendency to lose control of his bowels three times per week on average. The embarrassment was not at his expense. It was at _her's_ , truth be told. She had to go to such lengths just to get her dirty little kicks, just to satisfy her devious cravings, the desires she couldn't speak about to anyone, because she knew they were inappropriate and significantly un-princess-like. Not her friends, certainly not her mother and father, and definitely not Gabe.

Why did she have to be the one to get off to minotaurs' farting?

She had thought that perhaps it was a curse. Princesses were prone to that. But once she had gotten old enough, she realised it was nothing more than an infelicitous liking. Infelicitous in that she had come up with these insane plans in order to feel satisfied.

Today had been worth it, though. Oh, the way his stomachs made those noises! So loud even she could hear them from way up in her room. And the way he had wriggled and writhed, toned buttocks clenching desperately, his hooves tapping anxiously on the floor. The release was immense. He must've gorged himself at breakfast, because she had heard Zephyr call for a bucket three or four times. It was so worth it. From the privacy of her bedroom, she could see and hear all the brassy butt-burps, and smell the grotesque odour of his poop. It'd be even better if she could've been there beside him, rubbing his fat gut and stroking his thick, furry hind as he unleashed his storm...

As a child, she had crushed on Gabe for his appearance. His soft, cherubic looks, with his bright blue eyes and his cute little tail that wagged whenever he laughed, and his fluffy, hanging ears. As a teenager, she had grown to appreciate her bull for his terrific intestinal capabilities. His lactose intolerance was a blessing in disguise.

As a child, his constant farting made her laugh. As an adult, they made her feel funny in her darkest of places. Minotaurs were her favourites for this very reason.

Tatiana shrugged off her silk gown and sat down on the toilet. Always important to pee after doing these things, you know.

She would make it up to Gabe. Extra food at dinner; those fancy red carrots he liked would do. More head scratches. He could have his hooves gold-plated, if he wanted them. Maybe the other bulls wouldn't tease him so much then.

Of course, the best way to make it up to him would be to apologise, but that couldn't be done. Because then he'd know. That it had been she, the kingdom's dearest Princess, Daddy's little girl, who had paved the way for his terrible tummy turmoil. Really, she had made it so _plain._ In fact, the reason today paid off so well was because she felt she had taken a risk. Clearly not.

You'd think a guy would know laxative chocolate when he tasted it.


End file.
